


If That Diamond Ring Don't Shine

by Verasteine



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e13 Ka Ho'oponopono (The Fix), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few minutes after Joe leaves the car, Steve has to pull over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If That Diamond Ring Don't Shine

**Author's Note:**

> Much gratitude to [](http://idamus.livejournal.com/profile)[**idamus**](http://idamus.livejournal.com/) for the twitter support, [](http://somehowunbroken.livejournal.com/profile)[**somehowunbroken**](http://somehowunbroken.livejournal.com/) for the fresh eyes and beta notes, and [](http://eumelia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://eumelia.livejournal.com/)**eumelia** for the beta and the general handholding which I appear to be unable to do without. Thanks muchly, all. ♥

It takes two blocks before he realises the lights are blurring together, before he registers the sounds of squealing brakes and becomes aware that it's his driving causing it, and when he pulls over, he has to pry his hands from the wheel.

They shake too hard to type in numbers; he's limited to what's in his speed dial, so he presses 1 and waits.

"Don't tell me we have another case, Steven."

He needs two deep breaths before he can make his voice work. "Danny."

"Yeah, babe, what's up?"

"I--" He can't manage to form the words, can't manage to actually say what needs to be said. He reaches over to the dash, presses the button that locks the doors, listens to the clicks of the bolts engaging.

"Steve?"

There's concern creeping into Danny's voice, and man, all Steve needs to do is get home. Start the car, drive home, lock the door behind himself.

The steps needed to get there are too large; he can tell his hands are still shaking too much even without enough light to see.

"Steve? Hey, talk to me."

"Yeah." He breathes out, leans his head back slowly, swallows hard. "Danny, I need you to come get me."

"Okay." Danny draws the word out slowly. "Okay, where are you?"

It startles him not to recognise the street straightaway; he has to look around for street signs. "Kuhio, South end. At the corner of Maine."

"All right." He can tell Danny's nodding, gesturing, worried; if he would dare to close his eyes, he would see it behind his eyelids. "You okay?"

"I'm-- I'm fine, Danny."

"Okay. All right. I'll be right there."

Danny ends the call, and the silence is deafening.

\--

The Camaro pulls up, and the headlights stay on, making Steve clench his trembling fingers around the Sig, pull it slowly from its holster and hold it ready, aimed at the door next to him. He's pretty sure it's Danny, he can't tell if it's wishful thinking, so he stays in place as the driver of the Camaro makes his way to his side and pulls the door open.

" _Jesus_ , you trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

Steve blinks against the courtesy light that's come on, sees Danny's face and breathes out, slowly, lowering the gun. He has trouble holstering it, manages to reach over and fumble his phone from the dash holder, but the keys rattle in his hand and won't come out of the lock.

"Steve." Danny reaches over and puts his hand over his, turning the keys and pulling them free. "Like this, babe."

Danny's here, but they're only by the roadside, and he can't fall apart yet. "Danny--"

"Come on." Danny tugs him out of the car, and Steve nods, scans the empty street automatically, can't take his hand off the Sig on his thigh. Danny pulls him along, closes the car door behind him, tugs the keys from his hand and locks the car.

They're exposed, out here in the middle of the street, and Steve wants to tell Danny he should be more careful, should be hugging the buildings, should be keeping an eye out for hostiles, but his mouth won't work.

Danny walks him back to the Camaro, hand still warm on Steve's bicep, and Danny takes him to the passenger side, opens the door and gestures for him to get inside, so Steve does, and Danny shuts the door behind him. He goes around to the driver's side, gets in, and Steve can't help himself, reaches over and presses the door lock button as soon as Danny's done.

Danny raises an eyebrow at him, reaches up to the switch for the interior lights, and Steve stops him. "Just drive."

The shakes are abating a little, but he can't sit here, they have to move before he'll let himself go to pieces.

"Okay," Danny says again, his tone suggesting he's reserving judgement and the right to yell at Steve for when he actually has room to gesture and pace, but he puts the car into gear and drives.

\--

Steve's teeth begin to chatter about two blocks from his own house, his body giving up the fight against the adrenaline levels spiking through his veins. He grits his jaw, locks himself in place, but he senses Danny's glance even if he won't meet Danny's eyes.

As soon as they're at Piikoi Street, he gets out of the car, jogs up the steps and tries to unlock the door, and his hands are shaking again; he drops the keys from suddenly powerless fingers and Danny puts a hand on his arm, says, "Let me, Steve," and picks up the keys, unlocking the door easily and switching off the alarm.

Steve looks at him, reaches for the keys again, and Danny raises his eyebrows, but says, "Okay, okay, hang on." He turns back to relock the door from the inside. "Happy now?"

Steve nods, walks further into the house, checks the back, the study, the lanai, the beach, makes sure everything is deserted. He winds up in the kitchen, where Danny has switched on a low light and is turning the electric kettle on.

"What--"

"If there is anything," Danny says with a pointed finger, "I learned from my ex-wife, it's that a hot drink is a good idea in times of crisis."

Steve nods again, takes a seat at the kitchen table, is up again a moment later to pace. His teeth are chattering once more and his fingers are twitching, and he only stops when Danny brings him up short and takes his hands in a firm grip.

"Steve. Talk to me. What the hell happened?"

"Joe," Steve says, trying to start at the beginning. "Adam Noshimuri had Joe. So I went to get him."

"You went to Noshimuri's house to get Joe back? What, he was kidnapped? Wait, Steve, where's Joe?"

"He left."

"Left? You're not making any sense here, babe."

Danny's thumb is rubbing slowly over the back of Steve's hand, and it's a good feeling, distracting. He forces himself to focus. "After. After I got him out."

"So Joe's okay?"

Steve nods.

"And you, hmmm? What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I--" The memories start with the smell of damp, first time it happened was the first storm after he was back home. The pool at the Noshimuri house, the tang of rain in the air tonight, it's setting him off. He tears himself away from Danny to look out the window, stare at the clouds gathering in the sky.

"Babe," Danny says softly, "you're shaking like a spooked horse; you wanna tell me how you got that way?"

"I needed to get Joe."

"Yeah." The kettle clicks off, and Danny pauses, then Steve hears the clamour of Danny gathering mugs and spoons and sugar, pouring water. "Steve."

He turns back, knows he needs to explain. Danny's frowning, fingers restlessly stirring a mug, eyes on Steve. "I-- I'll be okay, Danny. Just need to shake it off."

"Babe..."

Part of him wants to ask Danny what he's seeing right now, part is afraid of the answer. "You don't have to be here."

"You called me," Danny says gently. "And I don't know, but you don't look like you should be alone right now."

Steve hangs his head at that, takes a deep breath, feels how it shakes and catches. "Danny--"

"Come here."

Danny's holding out an inviting arm, and Steve knows he should resist, knows he should sort this out by himself, not let Danny in again when there's nothing Danny can do, but he's worn down and he steps into the circle of Danny's embrace, buries his face in Danny's hair. Danny's hand runs up and down his back, slow, sweeping gestures that threaten to relax him.

"I'm staying here tonight," Danny says. "And before you start, you called me and freaked me the hell out, so you owe me, Steven, therefore, shut up."

It makes him laugh a little, and he backs out of Danny's arms. "Thanks."

"Yeah, what else are friends for. Drink your tea, you need to get warm."

Steve picks up the mug and takes a sip. It's nearly scalding, making him realise how cold his body is, starts the shivers up anew. His teeth click against the mug and he ends up putting it back down. He sits down slowly in the chair by the kitchen table, exhaustion rushing through him at rapid pace.

In the corner of his eye he catches Danny moving towards him and stopping, pulling up short. It makes him bristle, but he doesn't have the energy to deal with it, everything seeping out of him. He picks up the mug to take another sip, winces at how sweet it is. When he looks up, Danny says, "You need the sugar," as if anticipating his words.

"Thanks," Steve says needlessly.

\--

He crawls into bed with no real intention to actually sleep, warmer but still shaky. It's both soothing and disconcerting to have someone else in the house, the sounds drifting up from downstairs alerting him and then reminding him that Danny's here.

He settles in, stretches out and goes through the old exercises, seeking the contact with his body that he's lost a little, starts at his feet and mentally works his way up, focussing on light, easy breathing until he drifts, not quite asleep but at least resting.

\--

He starts awake at the first clap of thunder, heart in his throat, the room lit up by the lightning over the ocean, and the adrenaline is back in full force. He sits up and phantom pain spasms through his chest, making it hard to suck in air for a second. He wills it down, focuses on where he is, what's real about the sheets against his toes and the sound of rain against the window.

The smell drifts in, damp air over the scent of salt water, and he's out of bed, stumbling over his own feet, slamming the window shut. He sinks down below it, sits on the floor for a few seconds before he forces himself up again, to keep moving, to pull on socks against the chill, dig up an old Navy sweater before he heads for the stairs.

There's sound drifting up, the rustling of someone not asleep under covers, and he remembers Danny over the blood rushing in his ears. His fingers itch for the metal of a gun, and he walks down the steps carefully so as not to slip. Danny's sitting up under a nest of blankets, giving him a smile.

"Weather's being noisy, babe."

"Yeah." Steve scrubs a hand through his hair. He stands indecisively at the bottom of the stairs.

Danny gives him a look. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Some." The rain is lashing against the windows now, this storm's not going to let up for a while. "I'm gonna make tea. You want some?"

Danny snorts. "Tea. Yeah, all right, make me some, too."

Steve moves off to the kitchen, switches the light on, takes a peek outside to the deserted beach. Nothing moving but the waves, crashing onto the beach with white foam spraying into the wind. Nothing but a storm. He switches the kettle on, gathers mugs, sugar, and tea bags, and waits for the water to boil.

Danny shuffles into the kitchen at the first sounds of the water bubbling, and Steve glances at him. His hair is standing up in all directions, and it makes him smile, and Danny glares. He sits at the table, rearranges his blanket around himself.

Steve clicks the kettle off, pours the water into the mugs and carries them over, sitting down as well. He blows on his drink, takes a careful sip, lets it warm him from the inside.

Danny does the same, makes a face. "Tea."

"Yeah, Danny. What's wrong with tea?"

"What's wrong with-- Oh, I get it, you're just winding me up, you know perfectly well what's wrong with tea. It's stewed leaves, Steven, stewed leaves, not even fit for rabbits."

It's good to hear Danny's voice, going a mile a minute like this was an ordinary evening instead of the middle of a night where Steve's too apprehensive to go to sleep. "It's good for you, Danny," he says, tries a smile to see if it'll hold.

"Oh, yeah? Good for me, seriously, I gotta live a little, not everything that's good for me is worth doing. You know this, how many times have I told you?" Danny's grinning, onto what he's doing, no doubt, but it feels too good for Steve to care about that.

"Yeah, yeah." Steve waves him off, takes another sip, feels the way the light and Danny's company is pushing down the adrenaline threatening to take him out of his mind.

They're silent for a moment, Danny drinks his tea and mutters something under his breath, but continues drinking it anyway. After a while, he clears his throat, says, "This how you normally do this?"

"What?"

Danny flaps a hand at him. "Don't think I don't know, Steve. You might have kicked me out--"

"--I didn't kick you out, Danny--"

"--Fine, we agreed on separate living arrangements, whatever, Steve, but that doesn't mean I have not deduced that you've--" Danny waves his hand in Steve's general direction "--been doing a little less than stellar lately."

"I've been doing my job just fine, Danny."

"I never said you didn't!" Danny takes a deep breath. "But you've not been sleeping."

Steve shrugs. "I manage."

"Like this?"

"If that's what it takes." He stares into his mug, takes another sip, suppresses the shivers that threaten to start up again.

"Have you talked to someone?"

"Who would I talk to?" Steve looks at him, holds his eyes. "Come on, Danny, seriously, what's the point?"

"What's the _point_?" Danny waves a hand at him, gesture indecipherable through apparent frustration. "Did you forget I had to come pick you up just now? That you were shaking apart by the side of the road?"

Steve shoves his chair back abruptly. "Fuck you, I would have managed."

"Yeah, that's why you called me."

"I called you because I thought I could trust you!"

Danny slams his hand down on the table. "I'm right here, Steve!"

He puts his elbows on his knees and stares at the floor. The kitchen tiles are the same they've always been. "I know."

"What?"

"I said, I know." He looks up. "Sorry, man."

Danny comes over, crouches down in front of Steve's chair, lays his hand on top of Steve's. "'s okay, babe. You're going through a rough time, I get it."

"I know what I'm doing," Steve offers.

Danny sighs. "Because you've done it before, I know."

"Not like this," Steve admits.

"Hmmm?"

"I've never--" He blinks. "I've never been tortured before."

Danny swallows hard. "Steve..."

"Yeah, you didn't want to know that."

Danny reels back. "Shut the fuck up, Steve, jesus, you think that matters? You think I can't take it, that I don't want you to talk to me? I'm not some delicate flower, I'm not gonna wilt, if it sucks, it sucks, and we'll deal with it."

Steve nods, scrubs a hand over his face. The thunder claps again outside, and he can't quite suppress the shudder, and he hates his body for betraying him. Danny runs his hand up his arm, rubbing some warmth into his skin.

"What..." Danny freezes and tugs Steve's arm towards him. It makes him look down, see the ugly purple blotches that are covering his skin.

"Fuck."

"What the hell happened?"

"The guy, this afternoon--" There's another memory he doesn't want to revisit. He shoves it down, but it keeps bubbling up, the guy's yell as he went down, the sound of the landing. He shakes his head.

"Ah, fuck," Danny says, heartfelt.

Steve allows himself lean forward, puts his hand over Danny's fingers, and when he moves in, Danny lets him kiss him.

"We doing this again?" Danny says softly, reaching up to touch Steve's mouth. "I thought we agreed this wasn't such a good idea."

They had, because between the job and their respective private lives, it was a really stupid idea. "I know," Steve says, and leans in for another kiss anyway.

"Steven. Hey." Danny pulls back this time. "You wanna do this now? Really?"

"Just-- Want to stop thinking, Danny. At least for a bit."

"Yeah." Danny's hand moves up, fingers stroking Steve's hair away from his forehead, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the gesture. "I hear you, babe, but we'll still be in the same place in the morning."

"Worry about it then," Steve replies, reaches for Danny on touch and pulling him in, and Danny shifts closer, finally kisses him back.

\--

He's trusted Danny with his life long before he trusted him with his body, but it's easy to lose himself in Danny again; that was what started this, the way he could be with Danny without needing to give up any part of himself.

Danny leads him upstairs, muttering something about comfort, pushes him down on the edge of the bed, and Steve wants to argue with him, wants to say something about not being pushed around, but he's tired and Danny's right here, so he keeps his mouth shut. Danny divests him off his sweater, strips off his own t-shirts, says, "Really stupid, Steve," under his breath.

"Shut up," Steve answers, leans in to kiss Danny's reply off his lips. Danny makes sounds against his mouth, but he slides a hand up into Steve's hair, pulls him in closer, and Steve bites gently at Danny's lower lip. Danny deepens the kiss, pushes him back and straddles his hips and Steve stares up at him, Danny's hair falling over his forehead.

"Steve," Danny says, voice a little hoarse. "Fuck, sometimes I hate you."

"Not tonight," Steve replies, and Danny laughs.

"Yeah, a little tonight, too."

He doesn't want to think about it so he pulls Danny back in, kisses him until Danny hardens against his thigh, moves against him impatiently, and Steve bucks up, rubs against him until Danny groans.

"How do you want this, babe? Like this? Simple, huh, smart guy." Danny keeps up a running soundtrack as he slides his hand down to push down Steve's boxers, wraps his fingers around Steve's cock and runs a thumb up his length. Steve bites his lip as he bucks into Danny's grip, reaches down to get rid of Danny's underwear, returns the favour by taking him in a firm hand. Danny laughs softly, tugs Steve's fingers away, takes them in his hand together, and Steve closes his eyes as he pushes into Danny's palm again.

"Like this, clearly, god, look at you." Danny kisses him and Steve kisses back without opening his eyes, cups the back of Danny's head and keeps him close, moving against him, pushing them against each other in a delicious friction that is sending a different sort of shockwaves through his body.

"Danny," he manages between kisses, and it comes out a little like a whine, but he's too close to care. "Danny, Danny."

"Yeah, babe, right here." Danny kisses his cheek, mouths at his jaw, tongue running over his stubble. "Jesus, you feel good."

Steve tries to say something, but he's losing coherency, distracted by the feeling Danny's wringing from him, ready to give up and over and let go. Danny pulls back, out of his now slack grip, kisses him on the mouth and adds a twist to his wrist.

"It's okay, babe, right here," he whispers softly, and Steve thrusts up one more time before coming over Danny's hand.

\--

He curls up on his side, away from the window and the rain, now a steady patter but not a downpour any more. Danny fits himself against his back, slides an arm around his waist. "Sleep, babe. You need it."

Steve stares into the dark, blinks, feels the warmth of Danny's palm sinking into his skin. He shifts to get comfortable, closes his eyes, and listens to the sound of Danny's breathing until he is pulled under.

\--  
 _finis._


End file.
